Lest We Forget
by Spanano
Summary: Russia has finally snapped. Looking for a warmer climate and military advantage, the Russian eyes the care-free nation of Spain to conquer, little does he know,if he tries to take over Spain, the world will be at his throat-as will the fearsome Spaniard.
1. Adios, Russia

_**Lest We Forget**_

**A/N: YO! This is gonna be my first APH fanfiction—I hope you all don't kill me…Please. Oh. I'll intermittently use their human names; it gets a touch awkward if you keep saying "Spain said" and "America snarled" etc. Haha. I want some paella…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own APH…sadly…**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 "<strong>**Adios, Russia" **

The only reason America awoke that fateful morning was because of Australia. The American's little brother came bursting into his room that morning, complaining about jetlag and difference in time zones.

"You know," The Australian mused, rubbing his evil koala's ear. "I don't see a point in the damn time zones. They just mess me up…crikey."

America frowned sleepily at his younger brother, running a hand through his messy wheat coloured tresses. "Ya know, you Aussie, the World Conference isn't for another few hours—why don't you go crash on my couch?"

Australia looked thoughtful for a moment, giving his brother a sideways glance before nodding. "Right, and then, what?"

The American actually seemed to be getting annoyed for once in his life. Normally, America would've brushed off his brother's stupidity but today he was too tired to deal with it. "Aussie," he grumbled, flopping back into his masses of pillows, "Go to bed."

The morning progressed forward with America sleeping through his alarm and Australia falling off of America's couch. Around ten in the morning, America jolted awake to his phone ringing. "Hello?" he slurred, sleep fogging his voice over.

"Where are you and Australia, you git? The meeting started an hour ago and we're waiting on you!" England's rough voice came over the phone, his voice raising and lowering in amplitude in accordance with his mood.

"Ah—well, uhm, you see, friggen' Aussie woke me up at like six in the friggen mornin' cause he didn't know the difference in the damn time zones, so now he's passed out on my couch and I slept through my alarm."

"You have fifteen minutes to get yourself and Australia up and get your asses here. Now." England then promptly hung up the phone.

America stared at his phone, blinking sleepily before fully processing what had just happened. "Aw, shit man! Hey, Aussie," America shouted, jumping out of bed and running downstairs, "We gotta meeting, bro!"

Australia stirred lightly in his peaceful slumber. "Crikey, mate, do we have to fuggin' get up this damn early?"

"Yes!" America retorted, spinning on his heels to go and get dressed. "Iggy said we only have fifteen minutes."

"Maybe you do, you Yank, but 'Iggy' loves me so, if I'm a touch late he wouldn't give a fly."

America frowned. "I'm callin' bullshit on ya, man."

Australia smirked, pushing his slouch hat back from his face, allowing it to dangle around his neck. "Crikey, you're loud Yankee. Get dressed so we can get the hell outta here."

The blonde American smirked at his younger brother and headed back upstairs. Today was going to be a long day.

**WORLD CONFERENCE, GE****NEVA, SWITZERLAND**

Silence settled across the room as the last members trickled into the conference, taking their respected seats around the table—two seats were empty and each country eyed the empty spaces uncomfortably. The cheerful Spain wasn't there to make everyone's lives just a little bit sunnier; and the disturbing Russia was banned, now unable to torture the countries of the world—especially the smaller, weaker ones.

"Where's Spain?" a tentative Japan asked, fidgeting slightly as the death glare of Romano came flying his way. No one dared asked about Russia, they already knew. America had allowed the order to go through the last meeting, and no country, other than Ukraine and Belarus objected.

Germany nodded. "That's why this meeting was called. Russia is out of control, hence why the motion from the last meeting carried through." The German cleared his throat, and awkward silence settling over the room. Not even America was making absurd remarks. "Now, last night at approximately 11 PM, Russian aerial bombers led an unprovoked attack on the Spanish cities Barcelona and Madrid."

"No word on Antonio?" America asked, leaning back in his chair, gnawing quietly on his gum.

"We believe Russia has him—and we found a note on the Capital steps in Madrid." Germany mumbled, pulling the paper from his pocket and placing it on the table.

"Well, what's the paper read?" Romano demanded frustration evident on his face. "And you, Burger-lover." America quirked an eyebrow at Romano, prodding him further, "Don't call Spain Antonio."

"He calls me Alfred," the country retorted, tiredly.

Germany cleared his throat and the two bickering nations instantly quieted. "Anyway—the note, in short, is a list of countries and cities that we assume Russia is after next. Does anyone have a plan of action?"

"We need to declare war on Russia," America yawned. "Isn't it obvious? We've, and by we've I mean the UN, not me, become so lax that the commie bastard thinks he can step all over us, and by us I mean you guys."

England rolled his eyes at America. "You do have a point, for once. But, _Alfred_, you, too, have become lax, and you're also part of the UN."

"I'm in fucking Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan! That's not being lax you idiot, that's spreading my troops too thin and being in a God damn war that has no meaning! And don't call me Alfred, _Arthur,_" America retorted quickly.

Silence once again blanketed the conference room as the two nations glared daggers at one another. France decided his voice was needed and stood up gracefully. "Now, now," he cooed gently, flipping his curly blonde hair behind his shoulder. "America truly does have a point. We must stop Russia at all costs. Germany, what's the next city listed on the piece of paper?"

"Washington D.C, United States of America,"

America jerked his eyes away from England and directed their stern blue gaze at Germany, "Pardon?"

"Your capital, America,"

America stayed quiet, glancing away from the group and out the window. "Can this meeting be adjourned? Or, better yet, continue without me. I have a country to attend to."

The countries of the world stayed silent, save for England. "Alfred, please. We don't know if anything's happened yet. Sit down and take a minute to process what Germany's said."

America coughed and glanced at his hand, a snippy retort forming in his mind. Small dots of red were spread on his hand. A grimace of pain suddenly graced his normally cheerful features. "News. Now," he growled, sliding back down into his seat, the blonde's normally bright blue eyes scrunching up in pain.

England nodded and the maid in the room quickly turned the sole television in the room to the news.

"_As of now, death tolls are unknown, but the President has sent a declaration of war to Con__gress to be looked at. Russian fighter jets attacked the cities Chicago and New York all but 30 minutes ago and now, the Russian Air Force is letting their fury be known on our beloved Capital. From Washington D.C, this is Andrea Hernandez reporting, back to you all in the studio."_

"Shit," Alfred cursed, leaning tiredly back in his seat. "Russia's gone too far this time," he snarled.

The countries of the world stared in disbelief as they watched America's beloved home get bombarded with explosives. Flames rippled across the screen and decimated the beautiful capital. America, a defeated look plastered on his face, just laid his head on the table, allowing his eyes to be covered by his arms.

England moved and sat by his ex-colony, rubbing his hand soothingly over Alfred's back, mumbling words of encouragement to the silent country.

"We need to do something," Australia growled, standing up roughly. "The Yankee's right. We've allowed Russia to step all over us and here we are bickering over what to do!"

The nations all glanced at Australia. "Si." Romano grumbled resting his head on the palm of his head. "The stupid animal lover has a point. And anyway, this place is boring without that stupid tomato bastard."

Australia twitched in irritation. "Crikey, you little brat…" he growled.

New Zealand glanced around the room and cleared his throat. "Well, instead of sitting here, why don't we all head to the United States and see if we can force the Russian troops out, America, is that a good idea?"

All eyes turned to the silent American.

"America?" Australia asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his brother.

England just shook his head and mumbled something to America, instantly gaining a response from the rattled American.

"Excuse me, _Arthur, _but I refuse to be lectured by you," America snapped, lifting his head from the table to give the death glare to England. "I'll deal with my national crisis on my own. I don't need any damn sympathy from anyone, especially you."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "You ungrateful little child, your brother was only making a suggestion. How dare you snap at me like that!"

"Do you _really_ think I give a shit about how you feel, are you daft? I swear to God, you keep giving me more reasons to add to the list as to why I left you in the first place!"

"You, _Alfred, _need to learn how to read a bloody situation! Read the atmosphere in a room, no one needs your little immature spouts of anger!" England seethed, and grabbed America by his shirt, pulling him forward.

"Put a can in it, England! I'm tired of you trying to tell me what to do, how to do it, and when! You've done this since I was a kid and I'm sick of your "brotherly" intervention! It's unwanted, unnecessary and unappreciated!" America hissed, slapping away England's hands. "Now get your damn hands off me before I deck you to the floor, you son of a bitch." America winced and coughed, gasping for air as he pushed himself away from England.

England pulled away and mumbled a quiet "I'm sorry," before sitting down, exhausted. "Go. Do what you want. But if you need help, don't expect me to be there with my hand extended for you."

America wheezed and glanced tiredly at England, and then at the rest of the nations who sat in silent awe at the sudden outburst of the two nations. "I give up," America grumbled, sitting back down and slumping in his seat until he could rest his chin on the fine cherry wood table.

Germany cleared his throat uneasily. "Ahem, anyway, New Zealand, your idea is excellent. America, is that all right with you?"

"Yeah, yeah, do what you want." America whispered his voice raspy from his coughing and argument with England.

"Let's go then," France smiled, standing up. As such, the meeting in Geneva, Switzerland was adjourned.

**WASHINGTON D.C, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA**

America was the first to step onto the destroyed grounds of his nation's capital. An eerie silence had made its home over the ruble that used to be the District of Columbia. "My poor city," America mumbled, kicking some burnt brick out of his path.

Silently, the other countries footed the fire burnt grass and sidewalks of D.C. "Oh my," Seychelles gasped, covering her mouth and nose with her hands.

The smell of smoldering human flesh lingered in the air and even Germany was having trouble keeping himself from retching at the revolting smells and sight. "Is this what Madrid and Barcelona looked liked, Romano?"

The Italian nodded dryly, his dark brown eyes glancing around at the destruction. "Where are the Russians?"

America glared at Romano. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Why do you have to be so irritated today? Jeez, someone needs to stuff a ham—" Romano was instantly cut off by hands flying to cover his mouth.

"Pardon, do you care to repeat that, Romano?" America growled, a slightly annoyed expression replacing the somber one that had been on his face not too long ago.

Romano flinched at the American's onslaught of words. "No," he growled, his piercing nutmeg coloured eyes shooting daggers at the frazzled American.

"Good, that's what I thought,"

"Well, there's nothing we can do here it looks like. Perhaps we should go to Russia. There, I'm sure we can find the MIA Spain and perhaps even stop Russia in his bloody tracks. America, can we use one of your political buildings for a meeting?" England theorized, biting his lip in thought.

"They're all burnt to a crisp…."

Silence settled over the group once more, and America sighed. "Hopefully, my house isn't destroyed. Let's group there; perhaps we can make some sense out of all this shit that's going on."

Germany nodded. "That's a sound plan. We'll gather at America's house—which is close, I presume."

America nodded. "Yeah, it's in Potomac, Maryland. Not too far from Washington."

**POTOMAC, MARYLAND, U.S.A**

America messed with his keys, the sound of clinking metal slicing through the air. "Now which one is it?" Alfred grumbled, flipping through his keys, "Ah." He sung quietly, turning the key and unlatching the door. "Welcome to my humble abode."

The countries shuffled inside and America kicked his shoes off at the door, instantly relaxing as soon as he stepped foot into his door.

"~Ve, America! I love the couture in here!" Italy smiled, spinning in circles to glance at the walls; the Italian pranced over to the flowers on the foyer's tables and smelled them thoughtfully. "The roses are pretty!"

America smiled weakly at the nation and just shook his head. "Make yourselves at home—I'll make some coffee," Alfred glanced at England, "And tea. The meeting room is just down the hall and to the left, unless you all wanna use the den, in that case, it's down the hall and to the right."

The countries nodded as they watched America walk off, a prideful stride keeping the other nations from worrying too much.

"He seems to be doing all right," China commented tilting his head.

"It's all a façade. America's pride won't let us see him when he's been pushed down. He's probably already humiliated from this morning and as such he's trying to keep a strong face to keep us from thinking he's incapable of helping. To be perfectly honest, I'm sure his mental state has been compromised. When America's home is threatened, Alfred sort of loses sight of the big picture and he focuses on what's directly in front of him." England sighed, shaking his head in worry. "Sadly, right now all we can do is stand behind him and hope for the best."

Australia sighed and flopped down on the couch he had been sleeping on earlier that morning, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly. "We really need to do something about Russia."

England nodded. "Right, Russia's stepping on nations that would otherwise be able to destroy him…I believe he's looking for powerhouses that are suffering right now."

"That still brings in the question of Spain, _Angleterre." _France pointed out, a frown crossing his face. "Spain may have been a powerhouse, but he certainly isn't now, though his economy is suffering greatly."

"Spain's making a comeback to the title of international powerhouse," America piped in, walking through the door, tray in hand. "Russia's going after countries he feels threaten his position of power."

England nodded. "Just as I said, if Russia's taken out Spain already, and harassed the United States," Alfred made a face at England, "then that leaves the other powerhouses of the world, such as me, China and Japan."

China pouted. "I'm closer to Russia than Japan, so does that make me the next potential target?"

"Sadly, yes." Germany sighed, taking a beer gratefully from America. "It seems as if Russia is also attacking economic powerhouses, so, I hate to say it, but that leaves out Greece."

Greece blinked sleepily. "That's fine. I don't really want to be a part of this conflict." His rough, aged hands stroked the cat sitting in his lap. "I don't think I have anything Russia would want, anyway."

Germany shrugged and took a swig of his beer. "Mmm, all the countries have something that Russia wants."

"Which is?" Australia snapped.

"Land," America offered. "Russia may be the largest nation in the world, but 90% of his land is uninhabited due to the harsh living conditions, Siberia, anyone?"

Germany nodded. "That's reasonable enough, since the UN cut off trade with Russia; he's been running out of resources. I'm sure that's part of the reason, and perhaps he wants to continue what he started in World War II."

"At all costs, we need to stop Russia from advancing into anymore nations."

**MOSCOW, RUSSIA**

Russia jerked back brunette hair, tilting Spain's head back until his neck was exposed to the cynical nation. "Oh, Antonio, let's take a good look at this situation. You, a power-hungry, economically starved nation, are in the clutches of me, a large communist powerhouse."

"Bite me, tu hijo de puta," Spain hissed, "Lo lamento el dia que invadio el Reino de Pasion."

"I don't speak your pathetic language, _Antonio. _Do translate." Russia growled, jerking back on Spain's curly brunette hair once more.

"I said," The nation snarled, "You'll regret the day you invaded the Kingdom of Passion."

"And before that nasty comment?" Russia asked, tilting his head to the side, loosening his grip on the Spaniard's abused head.

"I called you a son of a bitch, isn't that obvious?" Spain muttered, suppressing a groan of pain as Russia tugged Antonio's head backward into an unnatural position. "Spanish is not that difficult a language to understand. _No es dificil."_

Russia bit his lip in thought and released Antonio's head once again, the smaller nation quietly sighing in relief, but Russia wasn't done. As soon as the cold nation released the Spaniard, he took his heavy boot-clad foot and slammed it down on Spain's back, forcing the other nation to the ground. Spain breathed heavily through clenched teeth, his emerald eyes glittering with new found hatred. Russia sneered and twisted his foot roughly into Antonio's back until a sickening crack was hard. "You shouldn't be so rude, Spain." Russia chastised, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Spain laughed hollowly. "Well, forgive me for my lack of manners."

Russia growled dangerously at this comment and slammed his foot harder into Spain's back, a small yelp escaping through Spain's chapped lips. "You seem to forget the situation that you're in, _España_."

"Oh, not at all, Russia, you've got me all wrong. I know very well the situation I'm in. I'm just trying my hardest to negate you of the reactions you so desire."

Russia's innocent smile disappeared, his violet eyes darkening in annoyance. "Spain," he growled, sitting his weight on the suppressed nation. "For being such a carefree nation, you're being awfully serious."

"The situation calls for it," Spain retorted, grimacing in pain as more weight was added to his already abused back. "I'm not understanding why you chose to invade my country though, please enlighten me." Spain mumbled, twisting his shoulders back in a feeble attempt to get slightly more comfortable and alleviate some of the pain that he was being assaulted with.

Russia let out a quiet, almost innocent laugh. "You certainly are naïve. Even though your nation's economy is in shambles, your land is still fertile," a wandering hand from Russia ran its way down Antonio's leg, causing the other nation to shudder. "You still have territories and, your bright and warm climate is appealing to those of us who live close towards the Arctic Circle." Russia toyed with a hole in Antonio's pants, his wandering fingers widening the tear in the fabric ever so slightly, the action, of course, was not unnoticed by Spain. "Your government decided to rebuild your once great Kingdom, and as such, your military is a growing threat to other international power houses."

"You seem to miss the point, _Ruso_," Spain growled. "My military is growing in numbers to combat nations that are insane, such as you."

Russia quirked a platinum blonde eyebrow at the nation underneath his foot, "I see," he mumbled, scratching his chin. "So, Spain," Russia bent down and ran a hand across Antonio's unshaven face, "what will it take to allow me the honour to see you writhing in agony?"

Spain cringed at the touch and instantly jerked his face away from Russia's wandering hands. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself, would ya?" Spain snapped, feebly attempting to pull his pinned body away from the larger nation.

Relief came in a wave as Antonio felt the immense weight of Russia lift off of his back; a small sigh escaped his lips as Antonio relaxed ever so slightly. Russia's hands left Spain's body and the sound of heavy boots echoed off of the almost bare walls of Russia's simple home. Instantly, panic overtook Spain as he frantically tried to read the situation, figure out just exactly what Russia was planning on doing to him. Antonio struggled to stand, but was instantly felled by immense pain in his ribs. Hissing, Spain's fingers prodded his side, assessing the damage done. His shaky fingers curled gently against broken ribs and another moan escaped Spain's lips as a searing pain assaulted his senses.

"Feeling the effects, da?" Russia asked, returning to the gasping nation on the floor. "I wouldn't relax too much if I were you, Spain. I'm not done with you yet."

With a great amount of painful effort, Spain twisted his abused body so he could face Russia properly. His emerald eyes were hazy with misery and incoherence, and his olive coloured face was contorted in agony. "Do your worst," Spain snarled, venom dripping from his raspy voice.

"With pleasure," Russia smiled, innocently, drawing his metal pipe from behind his back. "I'm going to have fun beating you into submission. I want to hear you squeal, wail, moan, groan, growl, and hiss and I want to see you writhe, cringe, shudder and flinch in agony. I want to be the death of you, Spain."

**A/N: Okay, if you guys haven't noticed yet, I really don't like Russia, yet I love España. Haha I have fun torturing my favourite characters. I apologize for my Spanish. Even though I'm a fourth year Spanish student, speaking as I would in English is difficult when translating to Spanish, so if there is anything incorrect please feel free to correct me (I really do love my Spanish/English dictionary). Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, please R/R! :D ~KazeRose**

**A/N 2: YES! I KNOW, Spain is slightly (more leaning towards the HOLY SHIT ES UN CONQUISTADOR!) OC, but seriously, if you were thrust into that situation, how the hell would you react, I'm sure even my buddy Mr. Alfred F. Jones would throw aside his cute little HERO routine and attach a much more serious face. So no flames on that unless you want Russia assaulting you with his pipe.**


	2. Paris is Indeed Splendid

**Chapter 2 "Paris is Indeed Splendid"**

**A/N: I wonder if anyone reads these little author notes, I know I do when I read others fanfictions…hmm, someone should review and tell me one of these days (laughs uneasily) I dunno if I would wanna know your opinions on my rants, though. That idea sorta kinda frightens me. By the way, I chose one of France-Niichan's character songs for this chapter title one, because it sounds pretty, two, it's a common theme of mine to use song titles as chapter titles and three, WE BE GOIN' TO PARIS! Yupp, I just gave you a spoiler…please enjoy the second chapter, and please read and review unless you want me to shank you with my car keys! **

France awoke the next morning to the peaceful chirping of birds outside his window. Bright sunlight bounced happily in from the outdoors and refracted off of the white walls. Lazily, France allowed his blue eyes to wander about the room, taking in every piece of Americana Alfred had carefully and tastefully placed throughout the room. Sighing, the nation snuggled into the comfort of the bed, pulling the covers up to his nose, willing the problems of the world to just disappear. "America certainly has good taste," the blonde mumbled, rolling over, inviting the open arms of sleep to coddle him once again, "Mm and a good taste in mattresses."

"Wake up, Francis!" A sharp voice snapped from outside France's closed door.

Moaning sleepily, the Frenchman rolled over and buried under the covers once again. "_Non," _He mumbled, sleep masking his voice. "I'm quite content where I am."

The door opened, revealing England, still in his pajamas. "You dolt, we have matters to attend to. You don't have all day to be molesting the mattress." England frowned and stomped over towards France, who just turned away. "America insisted we let you sleep, but we've let you sleep long enough. Come on, you git, up and at 'em." Arthur snatched the blankets and tugged them away from Francis's body.

Annoyed, the blonde Frenchman snatched his blankets back and tucked himself in. "_Oui,_ I understand that we have problems to attend to, but right now, I require my beauty sleep."

England huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "You're impossible, damn frog."

"You need to learn how to control your temper, _mon cheri._"

Arthur growled at the back of his throat. "Just—just get up would you?"

France sighed and shook out his blonde curls, allowing them to fall forward in his face, "_Oui, oui._" France yawned and stretched slightly, curling his toes back and forth until he felt more awake. After what felt like an eternity, France crawled out of bed, wrapping a robe around himself and trudged downstairs. "Good morning," he yawned, stepping into the kitchen.

"_Ni hao_," China greeted, "I'm glad you could finally join us, France."

France nodded, still half asleep. "No_ Ameriqué?"_ he asked, fighting back another yawn.

"No, he's still sleeping." Germany responded, taking a sip of his coffee. "Why?"

"Ah, well, England had told me that America insisted that you all let me sleep, so I just wanted to merely extend my thanks. Contrary to what other nations may think, America can truly be a kind soul."

England frowned and walked into the room. "He chucked a book at me this time."

Germany looked up from his newspaper and shook his head at the Brit. "Perhaps that's telling you that you should stop trying to wake everyone up."

Arthur huffed and sat in a chair, picking up his half-empty tea cup, closing his green eyes. "Yes, well, we have important things to attend to. I heard Paris is one of the cities on Russia's list…we need to go to France and see what's going on, perhaps even stop Ivan dead in his tracks."

France flinched slightly. His _Parí _on Russia's hit list? Impossible! "Why would Russia want to decimate my beautiful city?"

England cracked open one of his eyes and glanced at France. "Do you really think Ivan's going to allow any nation to be missed by his war path? I think not. I mean, for God sake's, he attacked America!"

"Then we go to Paris." France mumbled, tearing his gaze away from the piercing emerald ones of England. The idea of Paris being under siege made France shudder. His poor nation had already been felled by enemies in two other major wars, and he wasn't about to let it happen again. "I'll go wake _Ameriqué."_

The way to Paris was uneventful. Each nation sat silently on the plane ride from the USA to France. France even stayed silent, staring out the window into the seemingly never-ending sky. Armed with ample time, the blonde nation allowed his mind to wander, thinking of the horrors that another war would entail.

"France?"

Francis snapped out of his thoughts and glanced over at the two bright blue eyes staring at him. "_Oui Ameriqué,_ what is it?"

"Oh, nothing," The younger nation took a seat next to France and sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I was just checkin' on ya. I dunno, you seemed kinda in a stupor, ya know? Anyway, everyone else on this damn plane is either sleeping or too stuffy to have a decent, carefree conversation with."

A small smile graced France's lips. "I appreciate your concern, but I was only thinking, nothing more." Francis shook his head slightly and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear. "Is there something on your mind, Alfred? You're uncharacteristically subdued."

America jerked his head up and eyed France, "Oh, sorry." He laughed uneasily. "I'm just worried about Spain. I mean, I know the two of us had our dealings in the past and he _always _plays practical jokes on me, but he really is a nice guy. I really hold no grudge against him, especially for Texas," America, subconsciously, adjusted his glasses. "I just kinda provoked him, I guess and I should apologize and—"

"_Ameriqué_, you're rambling. Take a breath and calm down. Spain bears no ill will towards you, trust me; the two of us have had this conversation before. And to ease your concern, I'm sure Antonio is all right. He may seem sort of spacey—maybe naïve, and too carefree, but in all reality, Spain is very strong."

"Why can't the world just get along?" America frowned and bit his lip.

France blinked, blue eyes widening. "You're so young," he sighed. "The world will never 'just get along'. We're all too different, and there will always be those power crazed nations who thirst for other's blood. It's inevitable."

"I know that. I really do. It's just wishful thinking, is all."

France allowed a smile to grace his lips again. "I know. We all wish for a peaceful world, too bad we may never see it. By the way, how are _you_ feeling, America? Your little façade is very impressive."

America released his knees and slumped a little in the seat. "Eh, I'm okay I guess," he rubbed his chest gingerly. "It hurts, though. I can feel DC burning, people dying…etcetera. I dunno, the pain is a worse than the War of 1812—when England and Canada burned DC in 1814. I'll be all right though."

"I see," France glanced out the window again. "It's something none of us will ever get used to. I wish the best to you and your nation."

"What will you do if Paris is besieged?" Curious blue eyes stared at France.

France laughed. "I'll run that Russian bastard into the ground."

"So much for a carefree conversation," America laughed. "We're sorta havin' a heart to heart here, aren't we?"

"_Oui_, but conversations like this are good every once and awhile. It prevents us from lashing out, like what happened at the world meeting between you and _Angleterre."_

"I still wanna apology for that," America pouted.

France laughed lightly and looked out the window, Paris coming into view. "Yes, well, you'll have to beat that one out of that stubborn tea-sipper."

**PARIS, FRANCE**

France stepped out onto the streets of Paris and took a deep breath, taking in the alluring scents of his beloved city. "Gorgeous, _non?"_ France stretched and glanced up at the Eiffel Tower. "Such marvelous structures all gathered in one magnificent city. It's spectacular." France smiled and glanced at the nations behind him.

"Yes, yes, stop bragging. We have business to attend to." England snapped, glaring slightly at France. The Brit did not enjoy being in France; in fact, he detested it with every fiber of his being. "Let's just get this over with."

"Is that who I think it is?" America asked, pointing to a shadowy figure approaching them. "Kinda looks like big ol' Russia."

"_Oui,_" France responded, uneasily. "Why is he here in person? If anything, shouldn't it be his military?"

"Well, let's see then," China said, pushing past everyone. "If it really is Russia, we can capture him and interrogate him."

Russia smiled and walked up to the nations. "Ah, fancy seeing you all here, da?"

France pursed his lips in thought. "_Oui, _what is it that I can do for you, Russia?" France bit back the venom in his voice, settling for a slightly annoyed stare instead.

"I was just surveying the city I'm about to destroy. I like having before and after photos." Russia responded, flicking his hand outward, motioning to the city.

Francis's blue eyes widened. "I think not. I will not allow you to destroy Paris. Haven't you done enough? First Spain, then America, now Paris? Who's next?"

"Copenhagen, Denmark." Russia tilted his head at France. "Anyway, what can you all do to stop me right now? I mean, I annihilated America's military within a few hours."

"We were unprepared," America snarled. "Surprise attacks do not allow ample time to gather one's military strength together, you damned psychopath."

Russia tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose you have a point, but Spain didn't stand up to me either."

"Once again, a surprise attack." America snapped.

An innocent smile spread onto Russia's face. His violet eyes stared daggers into France and America's blue ones. "Anyway, I haven't the time to be dealing with you all. I have an attack to plan."

"I don't think so," England growled, snatching Russia by the upper arm, pulling him backward. "We have some questions for you, and you'll answer every single one, even if we have to drag them out of you by force."

**SOMEWHERE DARK AND SCARY IN PARIS, FRANCE**

Germany shoved Russia forcefully into a wooden chair, handcuffing the Russian's wrists to the arms of the chair. "Now, question number one, where is Spain?"

Russia looked away from Germany's assaulting blue eyes staring him down. "I don't know what you mean. Shouldn't Antonio be at his house?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Germany snarled. "Answer my damn question, or we'll resort to more…immoral methods of information gathering."

The Russian tugged lightly at his restraints. "These aren't necessary, or very friendly. I thought our nations were friends, Ludwig."

Germany growled in the back of his throat. "You're speaking nonsense. That so called 'alliance' was back before World War II. I have no political or economic ties to your pathetic excuse for a country."

"Germanyyyyy~"

Germany looked away from Russia and to the source of the noise. 'What is it, Italy?"

"Paris is under siege by the Russian military! We have to go!" Italy hopped from foot to foot, unable to contain his anxiety.

"God dammit," Germany growled, unlocking Russia's restraints and harshly jerked him up to an upright position. "Where is everyone else?"

"America is with France, Britain is arranging for us to go to London…I don't know about everyone else." Italy frowned slightly. "Romano went missing about an hour ago…I went looking for him and I couldn't find him." Italy sniffed slightly and glanced at Germany. "Ve~"

"It's all right, Italy. As soon as we get back to everyone we'll look for Romano."

The duo, plus Russia climbed the stairs from the basement level of the American embassy in Paris to the lobby level. The German scanned the lobby for someone, and caught America, sitting with France across the room. "America!" Germany called out, dragging Russia behind him as he hurried to the nation.

"Oh, Germany," America looked up from France, and pressed the cold compress onto France's feverish brow. "We need to get out of here. France isn't doing too well. The Russian's are coming at Paris full force. If we don't leave now, we'll never make it to London in one piece."

Germany nodded and yanked Russia to his side. "I propose we bring him along, I still have a lot of questions to ask him."

The blonde American nodded, and glanced at France, speaking fluent French to the woozy nation. _"France, we need to go, Paris won't last much longer and we're no use to the world dead. Are you all right to move?"_

France nodded weakly and smiled. _"Oui, Ameriqué. I love how you're fluent in so many languages; it's very flattering you know." _France responded back, speaking French to match America's use of France's native language.

"_Oui, you can thank the fact that my country is a melting pot. I speak a variety of languages." _America answered, smiling while easing France to his unsteady feet. _"Can you walk on your own or do you need assistance?" _America asked quickly, still speaking in French.

The other nation smiled. "_I'm not that weak, but assistance would be greatly appreciated. Merci beaucoup, Ameriqué,"_

America nodded and glanced at Germany. "Help me, would you? I just need you to get the doors."

Germany nodded, still in shock at America's fluency in another language other than Americanized English. "Ja, no problem," He said, moving towards the doors, still dragging Russia with him. "So, we're going to London?"

"That's the plan." America supported half of France's weight and maneuvered carefully towards the double doors Germany and Italy were so patiently holding open for him. "_Grazie," _America nodded at Italy who smiled at the use of his language, "_Vielen dank,"_ America thanked, smiling at Germany, who nodded in response.

The trio was greeted by England waiting for them by the steps of the Embassy. "Hurry, we need to get to London before a no-fly zone is established." England snapped, tapping his foot impatiently.

America rolled his eyes at the Brit, annoyance creeping onto his face. "Yes, yes, now help me already, England, France is flippin' heavy!"

Green eyes blinked and England moved to Alfred's side, gripping France's belt, causing the Frenchman to make a twisted, annoyed face at the Brit. "_Le fais-tu? Je vais bien_!" he swore, roughly jerking himself away from England.

"What did he say?" Arthur asked, looking expectantly at America.

Before the slightly bewildered American could answer, Francis snapped, "I said, 'the hell are you doing. I'm _fine."_

"Sure you are, Francis," Arthur said sarcastically. "Try walking on your own, you git. You're a mess! Look at Paris! It's in _ruins,_"

Francis scoffed uncharacteristically. "It doesn't matter…" the Frenchman muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. "There are other nations who need more help than I…like Antonio…" France's voice trailed off as he mentioned his best friend, a sigh escaping his lips.

Silence fell over the rag-tag group as Spain's name was mentioned. He was their next priority, but as of now, getting to safety was number one on the Allies To-Do list.

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><p><em>AN: Sorry it took me so long to update! Working on my letters story takes up 99.9% of my time~!_


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